


Creeping Eyes, Roaming Hands

by BrittWritesPokemon



Category: Biohazard | Resident Evil (Gameverse)
Genre: Cannibalism, Canon-Typical Violence, F/M, Groping, Kidnapping, Lucas is a touchy perv, Mild Sexual Content, No Sex, Post-Infection, Sexual Harassment, Touching
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-18
Updated: 2020-08-18
Packaged: 2021-03-06 05:33:57
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,010
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25978288
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BrittWritesPokemon/pseuds/BrittWritesPokemon
Summary: You're forced to attend the Bakers' family 'dinner.' During the ordeal, Lucas can't keep his eyes and hands off of you.*Warnings for Lucas touching you without your consent, but nothing extreme.
Relationships: Lucas Baker/Reader
Comments: 14
Kudos: 69





	Creeping Eyes, Roaming Hands

**Author's Note:**

> I've recently replayed RE7, and i was reminded just how much I love Lucas Baker. 
> 
> It brings me physical pain to see that not much is being written for him these days, so I thought I'd start contributing.
> 
> Even though my writing isn't very great :') 
> 
> *Also posted on Wattpad*

You didn't remember much before your surroundings had plunged into darkness, though as you came to your senses, the light pain around your neck brought back vivid memories.

Perhaps, walking off-trail and into a swamp in the late evening hadn't been your brightest idea. Though you wanted to chastise yourself for it, never would you have expected this to be an outcome.

No, it certainly didn't come to your mind that strong hands would have wrapped around your neck from behind, pressing until the lack of oxygen was too much for your body to handle.

You vaguely remembered not putting up much of a fight, frozen by the shock and horror of how quickly a simple hike to your grandparents' house had spiralled into a kidnapping.

You mentally promised yourself that if you were to die right here and now, you would haunt your grandfather's ass for not picking you up at your place as he always did.

As you came to your senses, your immediate reaction was to keep your eyes firmly shut, not wanting to witness whatever hell you had been brought into.

You could conclude that you were sitting upright, though you felt pressure on your wrists, possibly signalling that you were all strapped up with no way to simply make a dash for it.

Your nose involuntarily crinkled at the rancid smell of your new environment. You had to resist the urge to vomit right there. God. What was that smell? The scent could only be described as an array of somewhat recognizable foul odours all bundled into one; rotting cabbage and eggs, feces and mothballs. One of the most prominent and worrisome smells was the scent of rotten meat. 

You felt your muscles tense and shiver as you heard disgusting crunching noises, followed by the loud chewing of rubbery textures. You weren't alone in this room, and you were becoming painfully aware of the various pairs of eyes boring into you, observing your every little twitch. 

Something told you that your captors were already aware that you had woken up a little while ago. If they were, they were cruelly humouring you. You had that twisted gut feeling that this wasn't their first rodeo.

No longer able to bear the tension, your eyes fluttered open, and by God, you should have kept them closed.

There, messily piled upon a small wooden dinner table, were what you could only assume were decaying human remains. Flies and maggots sat atop the organs. Little candles decorated the table as if your captors had attempted to make a fancy, candlelit dinner. 

Looking down, you saw that your wrists had been indeed tightly wrapped with thick ropes to the armrests. No amount of struggling would get you out of those knots.

"Rise an' shine sleepyhead," a voice cooed at you.

At the horrifying sight of human flesh, you had almost forgotten that you weren't alone in the room.

You raised your head to get a good look at the woman who spoke to you. 'Living corpse' was the first thing that came to your mind at the sight of the woman sitting in front of you. Unsightly.

Messy black hair, which seemed dry with blood, her complexion was sickly with her cheekbones heavily protruding from her face. Those bloodshot blue eyes of hers bored into yours with mania beaming from them. 

She smiled at you and had the situation been different, you may have found her grin to be a warm, welcoming and motherly gesture. And maybe, in her twisted mindset, it was to her.

You narrowed your eyes in disbelief. Even amidst the dimly lit room, you could see things squirming behind her yellow teeth. Insects? You didn't care to know.

"It's time for supper!" She said, shoving a piece of 'food' in her mouth while looking you dead in the eye.

Watching a person casually eat decaying human remains as if it were nothing more than a mere piece of chicken had your stomach churning. You were at a loss for words; you couldn't even think of a coherent sentence.

It was useless to ask the clichéd question of 'why are you doing this' or 'please let me go.' You settled on silence, mentally praying that they'd put you out of your misery quickly.

You took a quick moment to look at the other people who surrounded you. Seated near the woman was a middle-aged man. Her husband, possibly. He was not nearly as sickly looking as her, though the distant and deranged look in his eyes told you to be very afraid of him. Even sitting down, you could tell that he was tall, tall and muscular.

You found yourself sandwiched between two people. To your right was an old lady in a wheelchair. She looked harmless enough. Hell, she looked dead; no reaction or movement whatsoever from her.

To your left was a hooded man, seemingly around your age. You couldn't see his hair, but he didn't seem to have a lot of it, save for his patchy facial hair. You could tell that he was sweaty and greasy. When was the last time this guy, or anyone of this household, had showered? He stared at you with wide, bloodshot, sleep-deprived blue eyes. 

His stare was unsettling, causing you to subconsciously lean away from him as he kept his gaze fixated on you. There was a gleam of fascination and some sort of twisted adoration. You might have been flattered in different circumstances.

Another sickly crunch sounded as the woman took another bite of flesh. 

"Hope you ain't too uncomfortable all bundled up between 'em," she said, grabbing your attention away from the young man.

"But... Lucas 'ere was wantin' to hog you all to himself," she said. A little giggle escaped her as if she found the situation to be cute.

You turned your gaze back to the man next to you. 'Lucas,' you presumed, still had his eyes fixated on you. It was unnerving, and the creep had the nerve to smirk at you.

"And she's a real beauty, ain't she Lucas?" She said.

Lucas chuckled lowly, bringing his hand up to tuck a strand of your hair behind your ear, making you shiver at the unwelcomed contact.

"Yeaahh… a real puuurty lil' thang she is, mama," Lucas said breathlessly, almost sounding obsessively enamoured.

You could only shakily exhale at Lucas' comment, thoroughly freaked out as images of you being raped, killed and then eaten flashed through your mind.

It was the sound of a hard fist slamming onto the table that had you jumping in your seat; your very soul nearly left your body at that.

It was the man of the house, whose name you had yet to figure out, that had caused a ruckus. He looked straight at you, almost angrily.

"Mah boy jus' paid you a compliment," he said.

You swallowed a thick ball of saliva. Was he seriously expecting you to be grateful? 

"O-Oh, God, I-" you struggled to find your words. 

In a state of panic, you abruptly turned to Lucas. "T-Thank you, uh, Lucas?" You said, hoping that your show of 'gratitude' would appeal to the man.

You hated the satisfied look on Lucas' face. At the sound of his name falling from your lips, he licked his dry lips and briefly looked down at his lap with a mad sounding giggle escaping him. The man was an absolute wreck—visibly and audibly had many screws loose.

Lucas looked at you again, eyes darkened with more lust than you've ever seen in a man. He looked like he could cream his pants if you said his name just once more.

He put a hand on your shoulder, causing you to freeze. You wanted nothing more than to shrug it off, though you didn't want to anger him or his family by doing so, so you took it.

"Aw... c'mon, old man. Sweetcheeks here's jus' a lil' shy, ain'tcha?" Lucas said, lightly gripping your shoulder.

"Y-Yes," you replied, even though it was a lie. You figured that you would play it safe.

The 'old man' seemed to have simmered down at that, retracting his closed fist from the table so he could go back to his 'dinner.'

You winced as Lucas suddenly ran his fingers along the sensitive skin of your throat where you had been choked.

"Oooh'wee... don't hate me fer them bruises on that purrty skin o' yers," he said. 

As those words left him, you realized that it was Lucas who had brought you here against your will. He had been the one to wrap his hands around your throat. Now, you were sure that you recognized his voice. That haunting, insane giggle of his was coming back to you.

_"Wow-wow-wee! C'mere cutie, I'll keep ya fer me."_

At that moment, that had been the voice and words you heard over the sounds of your panicked chokes before passing out. You remembered now.

He retracted his hand, and it was then that you felt him press his knee to yours, causing you to squeeze your legs shut as tightly as possible to prevent him from touching you any more than he already has.

Of course, he giggled in amusement. You figured that he had long legs as all he had to do was spread them a tiny bit to reach you.

You made the mistake of looking down at where you were connected. As your gaze was downwards, you caught a glimpse of a large tent forming in Lucas' baggy, beige pants.

Your second mistake was to do a double-take on what you thought you saw.

Your third mistake was to stare at it for over three seconds. It was hard to resist. You were still a woman who liked big dicks, and this man, of all people, was _blessed_. 

It wasn't as though Lucas was doing anything to hide it. He didn't cross his legs or pull his vest down. He seemed like he didn't have an ounce of care. Then again, you supposed that cannibalistic serial killers wouldn't really know what shame felt like.

You looked back up at Lucas. He glanced down at his lap again, causing your eyes to shift downwards as well. 

When he looked back at you, he gave you a disgustingly wide grin. He seemed to be so ecstatic with the whole situation, and, from your peripheral vision, you saw his hips shift as his cock twitched uncomfortably underneath the layers of clothing.

A variety of unsettling sounds could be heard throughout the dining room, from the squishy sounds emitting from the organs that these cannibals were eating, to Lucas' laboured breathing filled with lustful excitement, and your own fear-filled breaths.

You jumped in your seat when Lucas placed his hand on your knee. You, without thinking, sent him a sharp glare, although he wasn't paying attention. His eyes were locked onto his hand, watching it as he oh so slowly trailed it up your thigh, not paying any mind to your nervous whimpers.

"Ain't gon' hurt ya, babygirl," he whispered. It almost sounded soothing, but it was all too eerie, coming from a guy like him.

You had to bite your tongue to prevent yourself from spewing a sarcastic reply. ' _What about the goddamn handprints on my throat, you bastard?'_ That's what you wanted to say, but you knew not to try to anger them. You didn't quite know what they were capable of. It didn't matter; you were still strapped to your chair with no way of fighting or escaping. It was best not to test the waters.

His fingers twitched every so often, and you were sure that you saw some form of hesitation in his eyes as if he had no idea what he was doing. 

It was mortifying. Everything about this was mortifying. You were being touched against your consent by some creepy, cannibalistic pervert with his parents in the same goddamn room, watching the two of you as they chewed rotting human meat. 

And there wasn't a goddamn thing you could do about it. You had to let it happen out of fear of Lucas or his parents freaking out over your defiance.

But you were more mortified at your own thoughts about how you briefly realized just how gentle Lucas' touch was, almost intimate. Hell, even your previous boyfriends hadn't touched you as softly as Lucas was at the moment.

But the throbbing pain around your throat served as a reminder of what you were dealing with. If you made one wrong move, who knew what Lucas would do?

But your brain was frantically looking for any reason to stay calm, to cope with the nightmare you've found yourself a part of, and it settled on the eerily tender feeling of Lucas' hand travelling up your thigh. 

You squeezed your legs together even harder in a pathetic attempt to protect yourself as his hand halted dangerously close to your heat.

Lucas didn't make any moves to force his way any further, he just stayed there, lightly squeezing your thigh. It made everything all the more suspenseful as you couldn't help but brace yourself for what was to come next. You couldn't tell when his next move would happen.

Your body was absolutely confused about how to react. Your mind was screaming no, but you felt yourself getting mildly wet at the lingering of his hand. You told yourself that your body was preparing itself for an upcoming forced entry.

Still, he didn't budge. He just paid you a few glances here and there, picking at his 'food.' 

You had a brief moment to realize that Lucas had yet to actually eat the organs piled in front of him. It was most likely because he was too busy feeling you up.

Lucas's eyes flicked in your direction, but he wasn't looking quite at you. No, he was looking at the granny right next to you, creepy grin faltering ever-so-slightly.

When Lucas removed his hand from your thigh, you exhaled a breath you didn't know you were holding, but your relief didn't last very long as Lucas roughly and unexpectedly gripped both of your breasts, squeezing them with a satisfied groan.

"W-Wha? What the hell?!" You couldn't help but shriek in absolute horror.

"God _damn_. Look at 'em nice fuckin' tits. All fer me," he growled.

A loud gasp sounded from his mother. "Lucas!" She scolded her son's behaviour. However, the tone of her voice sounded as though her son's actions were just a common type of rudeness.

The father ripped Lucas off of you, and you watched in horror as the middle-aged man pinned Lucas's arm to the table, grabbing a large knife as he started to slice his son's hand off.

"God damn old man, not again!" Lucas said as he got his hand removed by his father.

You stared at Lucas with wide eyes. No screams of pain, barely a care in the world from Lucas, just mild annoyance. Not again? What the hell did that mean? Was 'chop your son's hand' a tradition for this family's dinner parties?

You shook in your seat. You knew they weren't normal, of course, but now, you had a feeling that there was even more to this enigmatic bunch. And you were going to experience it firsthand.

Lucas leaned back in his seat, brooding at his lost member. You felt the urge to yell 'serves you right,' but you couldn't as you were fixated on Lucas' father, who was slowly approaching you.

You wanted to disappear into thin air as he stood right next to you, leaning over you. Deranged gleam staring right at you, dried and fresh bloodstains painted his glasses and blouse. Fuck, he was a big man. Intimidating beyond words.

"This lil' lady's got to eat. She's got to have her supper," he said, picking up a piece of intestines.

"Yer part of the family now. You gotta eat like this family," he said.

Your eyes widened, heart hammering frantically as he brought the disgusting piece of crap to your lips. All eyes were on you as you shook in your seat.

If you forced yourself to eat that putrid mess they called food, maybe they'd have some form of mercy on your soul.

But you couldn't do it. 

As soon as the organ was forced into your mouth, the taste and texture immediately made you sick. Not just that, but the fact that your moral standards came smacking you as having human meat in your mouth was wrong on way too many levels.

You couldn't help it, you spit that nasty shit back onto the table, gagging and coughing. How you didn't vomit was a mystery.

You could feel the seething anger coming from the woman across from you. She stood up so abruptly that her chair skidded across the floor at a good meter behind her. She looked at you with pure hatred and disgust.

"Oh shit, Jack, she's not eatin' it! She's not eatin' it!" She screamed.

"Shut the hell up, Marguerite!" 'Jack' screamed back at his wife, raising his hand, seemingly about to smack her.

"I made that for her, and she ain't eatin' it!" She screamed, stomping around the dining room.

"Get the fuck outta here, Marguerite!" Jack yelled, pointing at the door that led to the hallway.

Lucas looked back and forth. His gaze went between the granny, you and his fighting parents. He had a hint of worry etched onto his face. His lips moved, but no words came out, though it did look like he was mouthing the word 'ma.' Was he worried about his mother?

Marguerite stormed out of the dining room, violently slamming the doors shut as she kept screaming.

"That selfish fuckin' cunt. I'll have my babies eat ya to shreds and use the rest as fuckin' garden fertilizer," you heard her yell in the distance.

You had managed to stay relatively strong and stable throughout the entire ordeal up until this moment. But with all the screaming and creepy threats, it was drilled into your skull that you were utterly fucked. You wouldn't escape with your life.

It was the last straw for tears to stream down your cheeks. Your body shook with every sniffle and hiccup.

You barely felt Lucas' calloused fingers rubbing little circles on your arm. You didn't care anymore. You looked down at your lap; you didn't even want to look at anything anymore.

Jack growled, angry at the situation, and he roughly grabbed a fistful of your hair to yank your head to meet his gaze. You yelped in pain at the strength he used. You felt as though he could have ripped your scalp right there.

"This—this was supposed to be a very _special_ feast. And you... you ruined it," he snarled at you.

You cried some more as you saw Jack pick up a large knife, pointing it directly at your left eye.

Who were you kidding? How stupid were you to think that you could play it safe with a bunch of maniacs like them, hoping to survive long enough for help to arrive?

As Jack gripped the knife tightly, you saw Lucas shifting in his seat, seemingly about to jump out of it.

And you waited for the final blow, but it never came. Saved by the bell was quite literal in your case as the sound of ringing had both men freeze in their tracks. You assumed that it was the doorbell.

Lucas looked at the hallway, a small snarl escaping him. "Fuckin' hell. I'll bet it's that cop again."

Your ears perked up at the word 'cop.' 

"Goddamn pigs," Jack growled under his breath, throwing the knife back onto the table as he stormed out of the dining room.

You were left alone with Lucas, sobbing quietly as fear from nearly being impaled still coursed through your body.

Lucas got up from his seat, casually picking up his severed arm from the floor and tucking it inside his vest pocket.

He then turned to you, grabbing the knife left behind by Jack. You froze and closed your eyes, but instead of agony, you were being cut out of your restraints.

"Aw... don't cry, babycakes. That don't look too good on ya. You gotta smiiile," he cooed.

Even if he was cutting you free from the ropes, he kept a grip on your wrists, pressing his 'bad arm' onto them to prevent you from booking it.

And, once the ropes had entirely loosened, Lucas pulled you to your feet, and, quick as lightning, held your arms firmly behind your back so he could guide you as he pleased.

He walked behind you, pushing you in the direction that he wanted. You could only comply, afraid of what kind of repercussions you would receive if you tried to fight him.

Besides, Lucas was stronger than you. By a lot. You couldn't tell just by looking at him, but you knew better.

"L-Lucas... where are you taking me?" You asked in a weak voice.

Lucas giggled. "My personal playground, of course! Oooh, baby-baby-baby, you'll love it!"

Lucas chuckled as he felt you shiver in fear at the mention of his 'playground.' What he had planned for you, you didn't want to know, but you were going to find out either way.

"Don't be like that, darlin'. I already told ya: I ain't gon' hurt ya," he cooed. "We gon' have fun—jus' you an' me. Nobody else," he said.

"W-What kind of fun?" You dared ask.

At that, Lucas cackled. "Ooooh'weee! Look at ya, all dirty-minded."

"That's not... not what I-"

"Ain't surprised. Did ya think I didn't see ya lookin' at me back there? Did I-" he paused, giggling, "did I get yer panties nice an' wet fer me?"

For emphasis, he thrust his hips into your rear, causing you to slightly jerk forwards with a yelp. The gesture, oddly enough, felt more playful than aggressive.

" _You_ , babygirl, are gonna help _me_ with mah games. Buuuuut..." he stopped to nuzzle and sniff your hair.

You shook your head in an attempt to shoo him away from you. His constant obsessing over you was overwhelming you.

"Let's say you wanna do, ya know, couple stuff, ooooh babygirl, I am all yers," he groaned.

Couple stuff? What in the hell was going on through this guy's head?

"I want a girlfriend. I need one. Baaadly. Always wanted one. If Eveline likes ya, you can be my wife! What'd'ya say? Huh? Doesn't that sound nice, (Y/N)? (Y/N) Baker, I like the sound o' that!" Lucas rambled.

You wanted to ask him how he knew your name; you had never mentioned it. You figured that he'd gone through your bag after kidnapping you, most likely having seen your name on your bank cards.

Before you got a chance to say anything, Lucas began to talk again.

"Aw, hell, even if she doesn't like ya, imma... imma keep ya fer me. All mine," he said in a low tone.

If Eveline liked you? What did that mean? Who was Eveline? Wife, girlfriend? To Lucas?!

Oh, dear. You sighed dejectedly. It was as if any common sense left your body at that very moment. You felt like you just sold your soul to the devil himself when you relaxed your tense muscles, silently accepting your fate. 

It was as if some otherworldly force was whispering to you to just give in and accept it. And for some ungodly reason, you did.

It's not like you had much of a say in the matter. 

"I guess... (Y/N) Baker has a nice ring to it," you said.

You felt Lucas press himself to you once more, groaning as he did. You could feel his erection rubbing against you.

He leaned down to your ear, his warm breath sending all sorts of unholy shivers throughout your body.

"Atta good babygirl. Welcome to the family."

**Author's Note:**

> Like what I do and want to show me a little extra love? You can always support me on Ko-fi, which is, of course, 100% optional: https://ko-fi.com/bloodybritt26


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